


Corresponding, Complementary, and Other Terms That Are Better Applied to People Than Math Problems

by Dragonomatopoeia (IntelligentAirhead)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Childhood Friends, Epistolary, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance, M/M, Now featuring dorothea and caspar found family content, Other characters make brief appearances, Primarily Golden Deer students because of the fic's trajectory, Takes place over like fifteen years, Working through complex feelings about family, as well as what it means to make your own, character study of a sort, in a sense and also intermittently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-07 16:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntelligentAirhead/pseuds/Dragonomatopoeia
Summary: It's hard enough to grow up surrounded by political drama when all you really want to do is climb trees and take naps with your best friend. It's even harder when your best friend spends every summer in the next county over, and there's an entire sea between the two of you. Harder still when wartime falls upon everyone's shoulders, and words become a precious commodity.At least there will always be letters to help bridge the gap.[Excerpts from the long, long history of correspondence of one Caspar von Bergliez and Linhardt von Hevring, with the occasional letter from friends and family]





	1. 1169: First Contact

**Author's Note:**

> I know all the Adrestian Empire kids grew up in Enbarr for Politics, but if you're gonna manage a territory, you gotta Visit that territory every once in a while. And Hevring isn't exactly a short jaunt away. 
> 
> So! Letters.

To the nursemaid of Caspar von Bergliez,

Allow me to introduce myself with the warmest of greetings. I have the great privilege of serving as an instructor in the employ of the Hevring house, and am currently charged with the tutelage of young master Linhardt. 

Lately, it has been impressed upon me by my student that it is of the utmost importance that I communicate a message to your charge, Caspar von Bergliez. I place not only my trust, but that of young master Linhardt, in you by asking that you pass on the following message:

“Caspar is really, really nice, and I want to see him again really soon. He’s my best[est] friend.”

In the interest of accurate transcription, I have included the error my student made in utilizing the superlative form of ‘better,’ though I shall leave it to your discretion as to whether you wish to communicate the exact phrasing. I, myself, would choose to use the correct form in order to set a better communicative example, especially within a teaching context. Associating a close friend with a phrase makes it more memorable, after all, and it seems to be a rather instructive moment. 

In any case, any reply from your charge would be welcomed. I must warn you, however, that if you should wish to ensure the letter reach the correct recipient, you would be best served in addressing me, rather than the head of the Hevring estate. 

Sincerely,

Agnes Hofmann 

Primary Instructor of the Hevring Estate

* * *

Dear Instructor Hofmann,

Thank you for taking the time to pass on young master Linhardt’s message. It truly made Caspar’s day. Unfortunately, I could not convince Caspar to allow me to transcribe his response. He’s a bit strong-willed at times, and he very much wished to let his friend know of how much his words meant in his own way. His response is enclosed. If you would, would you please give it to your student? 

Best,

Eiliswintha Roth

_ [A drawing of two dragons, one much larger than the other, is enclosed. One is bright blue, while the other is dark green. A flower has been squished into the paper, presumably for a decorative purpose. The words “Me” and “You” are clumsily scrawled as labels on the dragons, with the letters spaced irregularly. Both dragons have large, cartoonish smiles, but one appears to be asleep, as a massive pillow has been drawn around its head. On the other side of the paper, there are attempts at heartfelt, handwritten messages that have more in common with arcane sigils. A few are legible, such as something that could be read as “best” and a word that bears something approaching a resemblance to Linhardt’s name.] _

* * *

Dear Miss Roth,

I thank you for fighting valiantly on my behalf to extract a communicable message from your charge. I am more than familiar with the single-minded determination of a six-year-old, and I can only imagine the breadth and duration of the battle that must have ensued. Even with the exclusion of your translation, however, the communique was greatly appreciated. 

The young master has taken to using the drawing as a bookmark, and has taken great care in transferring it between texts. In addition, he insists that he would prefer to reciprocate in kind; however, he was more lenient than your charge in allowing me to preface his missive, as well as conceding that the luxury of parchment may necessitate a certain frugality. As a result of this, the remainder of this sheet shall be utilized by young master Linhardt.

Sincerely,

Agnes Hofmann 

Primary Instructor of the Hevring Estate

Hi Caspar,

thanK You for Your dragins.

they made me happy

Your mY Bestest Friend and I want to see you very very soon when our fathers are haveing a party again really soon

LINHARDT VON HEVRING

_ [Something has been drawn below the signature, but it is hard to distinguish what it is. There are several spikes included in the design, as well as a smile. Below the drawing, in the neat handwriting of Instructor Hofmann, is an explanatory label that reads “Linhardt drew his best friend.”] _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent way too long looking at writing samples from different grades, ages, and time periods to make sure that the letters are descriptively accurate, so please assume that any typographical mistake is there on purpose.


	2. 1171: Rough Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being eight years old is hard.

Salutations, My Lord Bergliez, 

I am pleased to present you with fortuitous news: your second son is safe and accounted for, albeit in possession of more lumber than a child would normally have at his disposal. He, for all intents and purposes, appears to have intended to build a watercraft with which to cross over the expanse of ocean separating our county from Hevring. While this is an impressive display of ambition and dedication, I do not believe it is a suitable activity for a boy only eight years of age. As such, I have stalled his efforts. 

We are more than honored to host your son until such a time that he can be retrieved; however, he would likely be safest within his own home, as he has proven himself rather innovative, as well as energetic, and I would not put escape past him. 

Respectfully,

Sir Henrik Meyer, Knight of Bergliez

* * *

Caspar,

I heard from Father about what happened. I told you it wouldn’t work but I am flattered you tried anyway. 

I will see you soon because my father wants to mock yours in person, even though the entire point of us being in Hevring for the season was so he could take a break from politics so it doesn’t really matter that your father’s knight stopped you. We got what we wanted anyway.

Sincerely,

Linhardt 

* * *

Linhardt,

Sir Henrik told me that Hevring is alot farther than I thought it was. I thought I knew since we visited you last summer but it turns out that the horses and boats we use are alot faster than a raft would be and I might have drowned and would never seen you again. I know you told me it probably wouldn’t work but I don’t think I knew there was a chance I wouldn’t see you ever so I’m very sorry for worrying you and my father and my brother and Sir Henrik. It wasn’t right and I will never do it again because I want to make people happy and not worried. 

I am glad you are coming but I am sorry my father is going to be embarased by your father for something I did. 

I miss you and want to see you very much but I feel like I am getting rewarded for being dishonrable. It doesn’t feel good but I still want to see you. I think I might be a bad person. 

Caspar

* * *

Caspar,

You are not a bad person and you are not dishonorable. You are more honorable than anyone else I know. If anyone is dishonorable it’s me because I did not stop you even when I knew it would not work. I wanted to see you and so I let you charge ahead and get in trouble. All I did was wait for you like I always do because it is easier to let you go ahead and take the fall. 

You are kind and dedicated and strong and I count myself <strike>fort</strike> <strike>fortu</strike> lucky to be your best friend because there is nothing in the world like knowing what you would do just to see me. 

I am selfish for wanting to see you enough that I do not care that your father was worried, but I do not feel guilty for that. I do feel guilty for not thinking of the danger and almost losing you. I want to see you, but I do not want you to get hurt trying to see me. 

I walked away from the letter for a bit for my lessons, but I couldn’t focus. I keep thinking of you trying to get here and drowning, and I am glad the knight stopped you. I know I will see you soon, but my stomach hurts every time I see the ocean out the window and think of you disappearing in it without me even knowing. 

But I will see you soon. I am so glad I will see you soon. 

Linhardt


	3. 1174: Keeping Grounded

Dear Traitor,

I miss you a lot, even though you said you weren’t ever gonna spend an entire summer in Hevring again LIKE A LIAR and then left to go spend a summer in Hevring LIKE A LIAR. 

I thought about going on a bunch of fun adventures without you to rub it in your face but that wouldn’t be very honorable or nice. So instead I’m gonna try to be really Linhardt about everything and try to see how that works out.

Update from the future: being really Linhardt is REALLY BORING. I don’t know how you do it. I read for almost an hour and tried to sleep but now I feel like I have to run or my bones are gonna shake outta me. But guess what! It’s raining! So I can’t! 

Bet it’s not raining in Hevr

_ [The line of the r has been dragged across the page, a jagged stream of ink that ends in a small rip.] _

GUESS WHAT. 

I

HATE

THUNDER!

Ordulf told me that he saw someone get LIQUEFIED because he was wearing full plate armor in a storm once.  LIQUEFIED,  LINHARDT. I don’t think even you could sleep during a storm while thinking about that. 

I hear some people can use lightning magic. Do you think learning it makes you immune? Or maybe they liquefy and regenrate. I think being goo would suck, even if you did regenrate. 

Miss you,

Caspar

* * *

Dear Scorned Soul Who Did Bear the Full Brunt of My Betrayal, O Woe is Ye, O Woe is Ye,

I _ am _ sorry, whether you believe me or not. I have no control over wherever Father decides we go. One day I will be the count and he will be cranky but inaffectual and likely toothless besides, and I won’t ever again be forced to ‘enjoy the coastal air’ as he insists. I’ll vacation with you instead, so that you don’t have to miss me, and all you must do in turn is deal with anyone who tries to interrupt my research. 

Speaking of my research I’ve been looking into the various ways to ground magical effects in wearable items. I will keep you updated. 

I don’t know that Ordulf was telling the truth. People are not easily liquefied. I’ll also look into that and keep you updated on whether or not lightning can turn you into fleshy liquid (I doubt it). I don’t think learning how to use magic would help much, but you’re welcome to be ‘really Linhardt’ with me and study until you can use some. I don’t think you’d have much affinity with thunder magic though. Shockingly. 

Sorry, but not really,

Linhardt

* * *

Dear Linhardt aka worst comedian in Hevring,

Ugggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggh.

Uggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggh. 

I can’t believe you took space out of a letter that takes entire days to get here, DAYS, just to make a bad joke at me. This is worse than when you let me dig for hours even though you knew there wasn’t anything buried around your manor. 

I can’t even be mad at you for too long because that takes too much space! And it’s not like you can make it up to me because you’re not HERE! 

Ugh! 

Ok I’m done whining. OR AM I?

Father invited Ferdinand’s father over for a meeting so I had to sit around an get lectured about nobility this and principle that. It’s like having TWO Ordulf’s around but Ferdinand isn’t even that much older than me! He just likes acting like he’s so much smarter and more responsible even though I remember when he started crying because they didn’t have his favorite tea when we all had to go to Varley because of that celebration festival whatever. 

He wasn’t too bad after a while but it still wasn’t anything like hanging out with you. Maybe if he’d cool it with the noble stuff and realize what’s more important: protecting people and punishing bad guys! 

Which! You kinda mentioned with the whole research thing. Let me know if there’s anything you find about how not to get turned into goo during a lightning storm pleeeeeeeease. 

ALSO also you being count sounds great already. If you choose wherever you go, we can hang out all the time! And since you’ll be a count, Father can’t complain if you ask me to visit! 

Though you should probably be more respectful talking about your father. My father might not like yours but talking badly about him could reflect badly or something and you might get punished. I wouldn’t tattle on you I’m just warning you in case because I get worried sometimes I don’t know. 

ANYWAY I’m DEFINTIELY gonna spend EVERY summer season with you the second you become count, even if you are gonna be boring about it and read the whole time. That’s okay. I’ll get in enough trouble for the both of us! 

_ [A drawing is sandwiched between the conclusion of the letter and the signature. It bears a passing resemblance to two faces, side by side, one with a gap toothed smile and one with half a frown and half a smile.] _

Miss you,

Caspar

* * *

To the Most Unfortunate Soul in All Of Fódlan,

Perhaps I’m lucky to be barricaded in Hevring if it means I’ve missed out on a chat with our dear friend from Aegir. Last time I saw him he wanted to teach me ettiquite. Ettiquete? Ugh. I would pull out the dictionary, but it’s the size of me. The real problem with you being so far away is that you can’t lift anything for me. 

In any case I can’t believe you spent so much time in your letter chasening me for wasting space with a joke when you wasted even more complaining about it. Also warning me about my father as if he wouldn’t congratulate me for “taking a stand for once” or something similar. 

As for wasting space… how would you prefer I spend it? There’s nothing I do in Hevring that is interesting enough to write about. You’re constantly off having adventures, but every day is much the same for me. I read. I sleep. I experiment at times, but not much happens. 

I could write to you about the books I read? It seems a waste of parchment if I could just send you the books instead. Then again... Father would never allow it. I’ll think about what to write next.

Thank you for your annual drawing. I was wondering when I should expect it to arrive. 

I’m sending a gift in return with this letter. If my experiments have resulted in anything, it’s this. I did tell you that my research would come in handy someday and I hope it serves you well while I’m not there to ward off the thunderstorms. If not… send an account of your experience for use in future trials. Just kidding. (It should work for sure. Don’t worry.)

See you soon,

Linhardt

_ [Enclosed is a grounding charm, meant to protect the wearer against lightning.] _

* * *

LINHARDT,

YOU’RE THE BEST FRIEND ANYONE COULD ASK FOR!!! 

I’M NEVER GONNA TAKE THIS OFF! EVEN IF THERE’S NOT A CLOUD IN THE SKY! 

AND WHAT’S WITH THE “SHOULD”??? OF COURSE IT’LL WORK!! YOU MADE IT!! YOU’RE THE SMARTEST PERSON I KNOW! EVEN IF YOUR JOKES ARE BAD!!!

THANKS LIN!!! YOU’RE THE BEST!!! 

I was going to send this by itself but I had to go down to dinner and when I came back I remembered you had other stuff in your letter that I haven’t answered yet. So! You’re still the best but also you’re really silly sometimes.

I don’t care if you’re not doing anything “interesting”. You’re my best friend and I wanna hear about your day and stuff! If that means listening to you talk about a book then I will! I do it all the time when you’re home anyway! Sure it’s not the same without you getting excited about it in person but I promise to try to pay attention anyway since it means a lot to you. 

You can tell me anything, and I’ll listen. That’s a promise and you know I don’t break those!!!!! 

Sincerely,

Caspar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think enough of us appreciate that we're not eleven anymore. Being eleven is such a trial. And Fire Emblem eleven-year-old's don't even have caramelldansen pokemon videos to help them through it.


	4. 1176: Ties, Bonds, and Other Finicky Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes figuring out an appropriate return gift takes a year or two.

Lin,

By the time you get this, you should have landed in Hevring. Or, well, definitely, since I’m sending it to your family’s estate, so it’d be weird if you were reading it on your way there. You’d have to intercept it or something! Which I guess you could, and it’d be super impressive if you did, but it doesn’t really seem like something you’d spend your time and energy on. 

Speaking of time and energy: are there any crests that let you send letters directly to people, instead of waiting on messengers? How about people? Like, for instance, if you wanted to visit your friend, but his father keeps spiriting him over to Hevring for the summer so he can learn how to manage a territory. Just as, y’know, a random example. Alternatively, how might someone hypothetically get around a massive bit of ocean? Y’know. Potentially.

Why is Hevring so far away, anyway? I know I ask this, like, every year, but still. 

Best,

Caspar

* * *

Caspar,

I would take up any general displeasure with Fódlan’s geography with the Goddess; it’s what I do, after all. I can only presume that she peered into the future, and with her boundless wisdom saw that should I have unrestricted access to Enbarr’s font of documents and assorted research at all times, I would bring about some form of doom on all our heads. Or, rather than the Goddess, that is my father’s purpose in insisting that I accompany him to our estate every Garland Moon. 

In any case, the end result is the same: I am parted from both the extensive private libraries of the peerage and from you, and you are left with the choice between honing your letter composition skills or befriending Ferdinand. 

Ha. 

I ask that you please not attempt to revisit the great raft catastrophe of 1172 if you do determine to make your way to Hevring under your own ability. It would be very inconvenient if one of my only regular correspondents were to die, especially considering you are, in fact, my best friend. Note that I cushioned that towards the end to avoid your commentary on the matter. It is a preventative measure, meant to ensure that none of the sheets of paper mailed to me are wasted, consumed by a meter-long declaration of, “YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND, TOO.” I mean it, Caspar. Yes, I enjoy your company and your companionship alike. No, I do not need a banner insisting on its reciprocation. 

In any case, I have not heard of anything like the crest you’ve described, but I would be happy to research— Oh, wait. It appears that we have reached the very obstacle I foreshadowed with my initial complaints!

There’s nothing for it: you’ll have to smuggle me relevant texts before I die, starved of both productive research outlets and company alike. Without such a thing, I may be forced to skip straight to experimentation. 

(I may do this anyway. I have been examining the theory behind the elusive Warp magic, and I am sorely tempted to begin experimental trials).

Thinking of you (and your estate’s robust library),

Linhardt

* * *

Hey Linhardt,

Guess what? 

> **YOU’RE MY BEST F**

Just kidding. Not about the friend thing, ‘cause you are my best friend, but about the whole doing the thing you told me not to thing. Would be kind of a jerk move!

Also I totally would send you the books and scrolls you need, but my hands are kinda sorta tied right now? Not, like, physically, or anything, but it came close hahaha!!

Whoops.

So the thing is that Father invited one of the barons over and he brought his son, Jamie, with him. You probably don’t remember him, but he’s the one with blond hair that I punched 'cause he stole one of your books that one time. Which probably doesn’t narrow it down. 

Anyway he’s not any better now than he was then but apparently I’m “old enough to know better now” even though HE ISN’T!

So yeah I don’t really have access to the library now. Or much aside from my room. However… I have a Cunning Plan duuuuuunn duhnuh dun dun dun duuuuuuuuuuh— actually, music lessons have to come in handy for somethin. Give me a second.

_ [In the margins next to this sentence, there is a shaky attempt at transcribing triumphant music. ‘Trumpet’ has been written next to it, along with a doodle of a smile.] _

Anyway! I’ll let you know how it goes! I might even be able to hand you this myself!

_ [Up until this point, the letter appears to have been written with black ink, but the following is written in blue] _

So!

It didn’t go well, but, uh! No surprise there really! You’re the plan guy, after all. So hurry back before I end up under house arrest for the next decade! 

Unfairly imprisoned,

Caspar

* * *

To He Who Should Better Evaluate the Consequences of His Actions,

How is it that whenever I find myself forgetting of your capacity to flip any given situation on its head, you immediately find some way of reminding me? Here I am, trapped in my coastal prison— albeit a remarkably well-furnished one— and off you go, making a prison for yourself. 

What did you even do? This question stands with regards to your Cunning Plan just as much as it does to your attack on Jamie of The Blond Hair, Poor Taste in Books, and Unnamed Barony. I do hope you’re not going around punching anyone you can get away with while I’m not there. I may be the ‘plan guy,’ but that only goes so far. 

Besides, I recall many a time when you’ve had a near-irritating degree of self-control. Yes, primarily when it involved breaking and entering, which does tend to generally have an <strike>affect</strike> effect on one’s inhibitions, but still. Invert your passion for keeping me outside of abandoned structures into keeping yourself within an occupied space, and apply more of that stubborn insistence to yourself. If this proves impossible, simply wait for summer’s end. I’ll be there soon enough. 

In addition, as much as I appreciate the notation you provided for your escapade’s musical accompaniment, I had to guess at the key, so I don’t know if my rendition was accurate. Then again, it isn’t as if we have brass instruments lying around, and you have long known me to sound like a dying cat whenever I sing, so perhaps it is better this way. 

I have no earthly idea whether you have noticed the various smudges and blots on this paper, but they are driving me up the wall. And, to make matters worse, it's through no one’s fault but my own. Cutting my hair is an ordeal, but leaving it this length is becoming moreso. It falls into my eyes whenever I read, and my ink before it dries, with a thousand other tiny vexations piling onto one another. I wake with more hair in my mouth than many have on their heads, and if I pay it no mind when I reach for something, I risk trapping it between my arm and torso, yanking on my own head in the process. I’m tempted to take a letter opener to the whole mess, even if the result resembles nothing more than your nine-year-old self’s mistakes.

If I lack hair completely the next time you see me, you will know why. 

Contemplatively,

Linhardt

* * *

Dear Linhardt Longhair,

You might be the smartest person I know, but you really miss the obvious sometimes. You don’t have to jump straight to chopping all your hair off, y’know. I mean, you can! I did! But you always take such good care of it that’d it be kind of a shame. Which is also why it’s weird you haven’t thought of this before I did!

I shoved a ribbon in the envelope, so if you haven’t pulled it out yet, DON’T THROW THE ENVELOPE AWAY!!! I know it’s easy to lose things people send you if you’re not expecting them haha. 

It took forever to convince Eila that I didn’t need it for, like, nefarious reasons, so you better appreciate it! You’d think she’d loosen up with her wedding on the way, but I guess she’s always gonna be a little bit suspicious I’m up to something. Comes with having to run around after me for over a decade, I guess. 

Oh, also I kinda did try to sneak out of the manor with a bunch of bed sheets tied together. (That’s why I’m in such big trouble). So she probably wasn’t wrong to suspect me. Still! I know better than to try using RIBBONS to escape. Yeesh. 

Okay, I just asked, and she said she was actually more worried about me tying them around my fists and ruining a bunch of good fabric by trying to punch stone or something. And! Get this! She said she wasn’t worried about my hands because “if nothing you’ve gotten up to has killed you yet, I doubt rocks could make a dent”. I take it back. Marrying someone must be the most relaxing thing in the world if it got Eila to make a joke like that. <strike>Do you think</strike>

SORRY, GOT SIDETRACKED! You wanted to know why I got in a fight with Jamie, right? Ugh. It’s honestly kind of

Okay so he was bragging about how he and his brother get to go around during tax collection to see how it works so they can learn more about the whole process, right? But the way he talked about everyone, especially the people who couldn’t afford the tax increases this year… UGH. Okay it was stupid of me but he talked about how this one family was, like, begging for a break, and he was laughing, and I don’t know. I don’t know. 

<strike> I don’t know what’s so great about being a noble if you’re just </strike>

<strike> Why do we even need money to protect people if we already have the power to </strike>

It doesn’t seem right, if people give us their money in exchange for protection, for us to treat them like that. What are they giving us their money for then? I don’t know. Maybe he’s right and I’m just too stupid to get it. You and Ferdinand and everybody seem to get it when the adults are talking about this stuff, and Ordulf would kill me if he knew I was thinking this, and he’s the one who’s gonna be the count anyway, so what does my opinion count for anyway haha. 

Sorry for bringing things down! This was just supposed to be an excuse to send you something to tie up your hair. Hope it works. Eila told me it’s good quality for your hair type (I didn’t know textures affected stuff like that whoops) and since it’s white it should match most stuff. She really knows her stuff. I’m gonna miss her when she leaves. Glad she’s happy though.

And, well, the same goes for you, too.

Miss you,

Caspar

* * *

To The Kindest Fool in Fódlan,

There a number of points to address in your letter, but I will try my best to give each of them the full force of my consideration. 

First of all, thank you for the ribbon. It serves its purpose rather well, as you can see by the lack of ink splattered everywhere. (I know I have only just begun to compose this missive, but you must understand: the power of the ribbon is such that even I am swayed by the spirit of optimism.) Your fears regarding the envelope, by the by, were unfounded. I generally save the entirety of your letters, envelopes included. How else will I review the various sketches you’ve sent me over the years? Yes, believe it or not, I have noticed the drawings you’ve ‘hidden’ on the envelopes before. Subtlety has never been your forté. 

Secondly, I see no flaws in your arguments, Caspar. You have always had a stronger sense of justice than most, and it allows you to see the cracks that appear in otherwise ‘flawless’ reasoning that fails to account for the potential for human suffering. Unfortunately, I find myself hesitant to fully address your worries via letter when we are so far apart. Trust me, we will discuss this again. Just… perhaps not when our correspondence is so easily intercepted. 

Thirdly, bed sheets, Caspar? I was wondering what you might have done to merit house arrest. Bed sheets, of all things. Poor Eila.

Then again, if I am mourning the effects of your poor decisions on Eila’s behalf, I may as well throw the weight of my own sins into the mix. Alas, I repeat, Poor Eila. She and Agnes did have their hands full with the both of us. However, in a way, we’re indirectly responsible for their future blessings, so I cannot find it within myself to feel guilty. Please tell Eila that I wish her every happiness in her upcoming nuptials. 

Hopefully, you will be freed from your house arrest in time for her wedding. If not, well. I will eat whatever sweets they supply at the celebration in your name. 

See you soon (for Eila and Agnes’ sake),

Linhardt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although 4/7 chapters are posted, they're considerably shorter than the next three, so this will be the short-term stopping point for uploads while I finish writing the last installments. They should be up shortly! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy what's been posted thus far.


	5. 1180: What You Make Of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making choices is the scariest part of starting to live on your own. The next step is realizing that it doesn't mean you're alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for working through complex feelings about familial relationships, especially with regards to parental expectations and negative interactions with siblings. Additional content warning for belittling language, specifically coming from an older sibling.

Dear Lord Big Guy,

Garreg Mach is literally nothing like you said! Don’t know if you decided it’d be funny to lie to your baby brother, or what, but I’m still having a good time. 

I’m learning a lot, though I ended up switching classes pretty early on. My first professor was great and all, but he was a lot more focused on reason and authority, and I’m

_ [There is a notable shift in the steadiness of the handwriting] _

Sorry about trailing off! My current professor just told me I passed my mastery exam! And if that’s not enough, I’m the first person in my entire year to master grappling! The examiners sent me in a letter of recognition and everything!

I’m gonna put it inside this letter so you can see it, and you can show it to Father too, if you want. 

Sorry if my handwriting’s shakier than usual. I’m still pretty wound up from the news! You’re one of the first people to hear about it, other than my professor and a few friends. They’re pretty excited for me, even though their results haven’t come back yet. I got real lucky making friends like them, even if a few of them _ are _ making fun of my new grappling gear. They’re just jealous that they don’t get new armor.

Anyway, I won’t keep you any longer by rambling on! I need to go train to work off all this energy now, anyway, haha. Hope you’re doing alright!

Caspar

* * *

This document formally recognizes that Caspar von Bergliez is the first student of his year to achieve mastery of Grappling. He has done so with great distinction, passing with the minimum possible point deduction. The dedication he has displayed in pursuing the needed skills is unmatched, as signified in his performance—

_ [Unreadable, due to partial tearing and poor preservation.] _

—nefit from greater training in axe-related skills. This recommendation is given with the prediction that the student would make a more than passable Warmaster, given time, training, and a great deal of dedication. 

Sincerely,

Sophia Hughes

Examination Board Chairman

* * *

Caspar,

Of course you were the first amongst your peers to master grappling; no one else would devote themselves to the subject so, considering they possess more than a modicum of sense. Any self-respecting noble would rather die than willingly sacrifice the good name of their house and wrestle with cretins in the mud, like a common boar. I would be shocked if anyone in your class had even considered wasting time and funds on a mastery that would leave them spitting dirt and their honorable houses’ names in disrepair. Rather, I imagine that your examination was graded on a curve consisting of you and some disgraced knight’s son who knows only slightly more of the art of combat than he does the art of washing his own ass. 

Your decisions have always been opaque to me, but none more so than this: electing to send me, of all people, direct notice that you have devoted yourself to casting aspersions on our house’s dedication to artistry on the battlefield, of all things. I find myself nearly impressed: unsatisfied with taking the path of least resistance and committing yourself to rampant debauchery, as most second sons in want of slandering their families would do, you took the option that squandered time, energy, and money on not only your part, but the Church of Seiros’ and your dedicated instructor’s. Far be it from me to suggest you do anything halfway, rather than pouring everything you have into ruinous outlets. 

As for your friends who encouraged you so, they must either be as common as hewn stone with no understanding of propriety, or are perfectly aware of the ramifications of your actions and seek only to undermine you and our family. For our father’s sake, I hope it is the former. Better you be dragged down through your own ignorance than assist in the slow poisoning of our influence at the direction of our adversaries.

I beg you to for once consider the ramifications of your actions for longer than the single moment they sit, queued for release, at the forefront of your mind. Even if this is somehow beyond you, I can only hope you possess the sense to never again report news of your misdeeds to me directly. 

I leave you with one final piece of advice: you are sixteen years of age now, which means you have long since grown beyond any excuse for neglecting proper forms of address. Do not address me as if we are still children. Either use my rank, as is fitting, or my name. 

Sincerely,

Ordulf Nikolaus von Bergliez

* * *

To the honorable Bergliez, future Minister of Military Affairs, whom friends might call Ordulf,

I must, before anything else, offer my greatest sympathies for your plight. I have only recently become aware of the trials you are currently facing, but my ignorance has no bearing on the deleterious ways they have affected you. In reparation for my grievous oversight, I ask that you feel no shame in laying your burdens upon me, sparing no detail in recounting how, exactly, you have suffered in being tasked with expelling the full-force of the world’s sunlight from your own ass each morning. 

This, of course, must be the only explanation as to why you addressed your younger brother in such a callous and uncaring fashion, yes? You, who have been tasked with placing the sun itself in the sky as it ejects itself with blistering fervor from its humble abode each morning. Any lesser excuse, and you might be accused of lacking any and all concern for your fellow man, much less as close a relation as your younger brother, who has defended you when any other person in the world would decry you as a petty, wretched waste of space who cares more for power than he does anything else in the entirety of Fódlan. 

I cannot hope to understand why the Goddess would place this burden upon you, as her motivations are beyond us mere mortals; however, she is known for setting trials that prove uniquely challenging for each of us. For you, it is being a beacon to which we all must look for guidance; for Caspar, it is having a brother such as you. 

As for the aspersions you cast on your brother’s friendships, I can only assume they come from a place of deep fraternal concern, considering the vast pool of acquaintances you are obviously using as a point of reference. Never fear: there is no such sycophantic mass of nodding heads and vapid gazes in Caspar’s sphere of influence. His presence is such that he inspires the love and confidence of many, and they would rather march to certain destruction than risk hurting him. 

Your concern for your brother is appreciated by someone, I am sure, but it is unnecessary and unneeded.

With all due respect,

Linhardt von Hevring

_ [The return address on the envelope, despite clearly being printed in Linhardt’s handwriting, states that it was sent from a powerful barony within Aegir.] _

* * *

ORDULF,

DON’T READ ANY LETTERS FROM HOUSE HEVRING!

HE DOESN’T MEAN IT!

CASPAR

_ [Delivered the same day as the previous correspondence] _

* * *

_ [Compiled below are a collection of documents intercepted through the collective efforts of Professor Byleth and Caspar before they could be finished or sent. Though all are slightly crumpled, and none were ever delivered to their intended recipient, they all show signs of being carefully handled.] _

MY LORD ORDULF NIKOLOUSE, 

PROVE YOU DESERVE THE TAXES YOU SIT SO PROUDLY UPON, AND FIGHT THIS UNWASHED COMMONER SWORD TO SWO

-∰-

Dear Bergliez,

This letter is unbefitting of a man of your stature, and I should hope that you do not address your peers in the manner you speak to your brother. Though you may be tempted to cast blame on your younger sibling for the revelation of your indiscretion, know that it was only by chance that your true colors were revealed. Caspar lost hold of his missive in the oncoming headwind, and our classmates, being overcurious to their own detriment, saw more of your fierce scrawl than anyone would prefer. 

My reasoning in making a point of this is two-fold. The first is a warning: you risk exposure any given time you act on your cruel nature to torment those in weaker positions than your own. The second, however, is a plea that you leave Caspar be. He 

-∰-

FUCK 

OFF

Sincerely, 

Lysi

-∰-

Buddy,

I try to think the best I can of people but you’re really trying me here. I don’t tend to think people much deserve good treatment so much as they’re people and good treatment is something people need. Saying so, some people dish out enough rough treatment that you may need to treat them rough right back. Caspar isn’t one of em. He’s rough in a kind kinda way. You’re rough like a cornered an

* * *

_ [The following letter has not been preserved well. It is crumpled and stained. However, it is entirely legible, and has not been thrown away.] _

Linhardt, my only son,

I must preface this by saying it is a relief to finally see some evidence of a spine in you; I was beginning to think that all the time you spend contorting yourself into positions of repose that seem unconducive to breathing, much less restful sleep, had left you without one. I will not soon forget the look on Bergliez’s face upon reading the missive you sent his heir. 

That said, you must perfect the art of plausible deniability if your legacy is to be a long one. Politics are a tricky game, and it won’t do to make explicit enemies with one son for the sake of your friendship with another. Especially when you have chosen the side that will inherit nothing. There is no advantage to be found in piercing yourself upon this particular spear. 

You are still young, and this bridge can be mended. Send your apologies while you can. I will make amends as best as I am able from this side of the battlefield. 

Despite any softening that my words have lent to the situation, bear in mind that this cannot happen again. While this incident may be brushed aside as a youthful indiscretion, you are growing older, and your responsibilities as heir to house Hevring will soon fall upon your shoulders. 

Do not disappoint me. 

All my best,

Father

* * *

_ [All of the following missives are crumpled and in various states of ruin. Some have been torn to shreds. All have been shoved in the back of a desk that belonged to Linhardt von Hevring at the time of their composition.] _

Dear Father,

I do not want

-∰-

Father,

I have no interest in inheriting your position or your will. Any cost would be too high for such a thing, and if I were asked to choose between Caspar and

-∰- 

Perhaps, Father, I would be in possession of a spine if any example was to be found in our home. As it was, I was six years of age before my first encounter with bravery, and nine before I knew the true shape of it. 

Did you know that I had learnt the difference between sincerity and empty flattery by the time I was seven? I don’t think I’ve ever heard the former from you. I don’t know that you’re brave enough to let such a thing past your lips. 

I certainly never learnt enough bravery from you to let this past my desk.

-∰-

Father,

It might be best if you adopted an heir, or if you and mother simply tried again. I cannot be what you would have me be. Think of that what you will; it is not for lack of trying_—_ goddess knows I have tried, and tried and tried again_— _and it is not for lack of love. But I am not suited to anything you would wish of me. If it makes it easier, you may believe I hate you, or that I never tried at all. Sometimes, in my worst days, I think that as well. Sometimes I think it would be better if it were true.

You expect so much more of me than I have ever poss

-∰-

Is it not enough _ [The rest of this message has been crossed out furiously enough that the paper has ripped, obscuring whatever else was written.] _

Am I not

* * *

Dear Father,

I will apologize to you for how my actions have reflected upon you. I will not, however, apologize to Ordulf. I cannot forgive the actions of one who so irresponsibly mishandles the position we share. I merely wished to impress upon him the gravity of his words, as well as how he is perceived. As we are both set to inherit counties that would suffer headily under a misguided, selfish hand, I reached out to him as a peer. 

I am sure you can see the reasoning behind my actions. Perhaps I may have been too brazen in my choice of words; however, I surely cannot be chastened for desiring to steer Ordulf towards a mindset that is more becoming of a responsible count, especially one set to become the next Minister of Military Affairs. 

Dutifully,

Linhardt

* * *

_[A scrap of paper, hastily shoved into the advice box]_

I kind of blew up at a friend. I feel really bad about it because he was just trying to help, and I know he was trying to defend me, but this isn't his problem, and I'm afraid he's made everything worse. Nothing's happened yet, but that doesn't mean nothing won't. I don't want to be pulled out of the monastery. It's my one chance to prove myself. What do I do?

-∰-

Remember that you're not alone. Perhaps your friend shouldn't have interfered without asking, but it came from a place of concern. That same concern is present in most of your classmates and friends. They are here for you, and they will not let you go without a fight. 

In any case, no ill effects have come to pass just yet. It will not serve you to worry about eventualities that may never come to pass. Besides: as a professor, it is my duty to mediate between parents and students. I prioritize your education, after all. 

* * *

Caspar,

I am sorry. You must believe this of me. I am sorry. I know you will not believe that I regret telling your brother those things, and it is true that I meant them, but it was not within my rights to send that letter. Not when I should have known there was a chance you would face more consequences than I. Not when I should have known that it would reflect on you.

I know this won’t make up for what I have done, but if it will make you feel better, we can resolve this your way. If you won’t open your door, then I’ll meet you at the training grounds.

_ [There is a pool of ink, as if the writer lingered over the closing for too long] _

Linhardt

* * *

_ [Posted at the entrance to the training grounds] _

THE TRAINING GROUNDS ARE NOT A PLACE FOR HUGGING, CRYING, OR APOLOGIES. THEY ARE FOR THE SOLE USE OF PEOPLE WHO WANT TO IMPROVE THEIR SKILLS IN BATTLE, NOT DASTARDS WHO REFUSE TO WORK OUT THEIR INTERPERSONAL ISSUES WITH SWORDS LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. 

ALL FUTURE PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF EMOTION SHOULD EITHER TAKE PLACE OUTSIDE PEAK TRAINING HOURS (I.E. ANY TIME SOMEONE ELSE IS THERE, FORCED TO WATCH WHATEVER THE HELL YOU’RE CRYING ABOUT) OR IN THE GREENHOUSE.

THE PLANTS, THE GARDENER, AND PROFESSOR BYLETH ARE ALL BETTER EQUIPPED TO DEAL WITH YOUR ISSUES THAN ANY OF THE REST OF US, EXCEPT MERCEDES, WHO SHOULDN’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOUR ISSUES EITHER.

* * *

_ [The following messages have seemingly been crumpled into balls, but were unfolded at some point and placed together, wrapped in waxed parchment, and left at the bottom of a bag that appears to have been prepared for travel. The bag, however, did not leave Garreg Mach’s monastery for over fifty years, until its eventual discovery by a cleaning crew.] _

Dear Father,

You haven’t said anything about Linhardt’s letter yet. I don’t know if you don’t care or if you’re just waiting, and I think it’d be better if you just 

-∰-

Father,

Kinda weird how I wish you’d just say you were disappointed in me. Feels like I’m gonna throw up because you haven’t said anything and I’m just waiting for you to show up and say, well, that’s it. No more Garreg Mach. No more training. You're done expecting anything from me. You’re sending me to go serve Uncle Randolph as a knight or something. 

Linhardt apologized. He even offered to apologize to you and Ordulf, even though he told his father he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t back down for him.

But he would for me. 

<strike> I don’t think you or Ordulf have ever apo </strike>

-∰-

Father,

I just kinda hoped you’d be proud of me. 

That’s all.

* * *

_  
[Variations on the below invitation were sent to each member of The Golden Deer Class, three days after the Training Grounds Incident.] _

Deer Comrades,

As you well know, our class prides itself upon keeping spirits high and righting wrongs wherever we may find them. It is for this reason that we must immediately address the red wolf in the room: we have not yet celebrated our unparalleled success rate in skill mastery. 

All six of our classmates who have taken their mastery exams have passed. This is no small feat, and so I propose we hold a feast to celebrate. 

I hope to see you at the dining hall come nightfall.

-Claude

_[Annotations written in the margins in slightly clumsier, but still identifiable, scrawl: Thanks for joining up, Bruiser! We were already the best, but now we're undefeatable! This night is one-sixth all about you, so let me know if you have any requests, food and drink-wise.]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lorenz's RSVP includes a correction of "I believe you mean Dear," which spirals into a long, long series of jokes that span the next three months and somehow extends to the other houses.


	6. 1181: Making Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Circumstances change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed the chapter count increased. There's been a slight change in structure, since I realized that this chapter was getting Really, Excessively Long. So! The final count will be eight chapters instead of seven.

_ [The following four drafts were never sent.] _

Hey Lin,

Guess who just got himself disinherited!

-∰-

Linhardt,

Sorry. I almost went to your place to ask you to come with me in person but that wouldn’t be fair. Not like that, at least. Not when

-∰-

Lin,

I should have <strike>told you in pe</strike>

Done a lot of things. I should have done a lot of things but now I’m not even in Enbarr because I couldn’t think about anything but getting out and now I’m wasting paper cause I don’t know how to tell you I’m not there any

-∰-

Okay! First things first is organizing your thoughts, right? So I’ll try to put them in order.

_ [A pool of ink has been left, blotting out whatever may have been written, if anything was.] _

Figures that I’d end up having to

You’ve always been better at putting things together than me. Funny how you’d know the best way to tell you about it all, but I can’t exactly

Ugh.

I miss you. 

* * *

Lin,

Y’know, I’m not real sure of how serious I was, back when we used to joke about leaving everything behind. Part of me thought… well, it’s easier for me, right? Your father wanted way more out of you than mine ever did from me. Best my father expected was for me to not, y’know, ruin our house’s reputation. 

Haha. Failed at the first step, I guess! Oops. 

Sorry, kinda got off track there. This isn’t about me. I know it seems that way, and it’s gonna really seem that way once your father starts gloating about all this— that’s why I wanted to get the news to you first, before anyone else could— but I promise it’s not. This letter’s all about you. 

Because the thing is, it was easier for me. I get to do what feels right, and it’s not like I’m letting people down by charging ahead. They basically expect it. Pretty sure Ordulf won’t even blink when he gets the news, heh. But it’s different for you.

Your family’s always expected stuff from you. And it’s not like you’re incapable or anything— Saints, you’re the most capable person I know— it’s just that they didn’t expect the right things. I don’t think they’re always seeing the person in front of them. Not the way they should. And I think…

I think that’s probably made a lot of things harder on you. So I get it. It’s hard to leave when it feels like it’s less ‘leaving’ and more ‘abandoning’. 

Ugh. Okay. Not exactly being crafty here, dodging the point like a rooster in a butcher’s shop. You’re better at stuff like this. Making words mean more because of where you put them, and things like that. But this is important, so I didn’t want to just rush in. 

I know. I can see the face you’re making. Caspar, of all people, deciding not to rush in for once in his life. But, hey! You know me. Lot more careful about picking up the pieces than I am about making sure I don’t break anything in the first place. 

I’m joining up with Claude and the Alliance. Or, well, I’ve joined. Kinda jumped ship two weeks or so ago. I’d go into why, but, well. Like I said, this isn’t about me. 

Before I say anything else, I need you to know that I understand. I know why it’s harder for you to leave in a way it isn’t for me. Always has been, even when we were joking around. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing. Some things are worth fighting for. 

I know. I know. Easy for me to say when I fight everything for anything. But stay with me, here. It’s important. 

You’ve always hated blood, Lin, and I’m not gonna pretend there won’t be way, way too much of it for your taste if you end up following after me, but… if the alternative is watching innocent people die? People who didn’t sign up for any of this? I don’t think you’d be able to stand it. It’d scrape everything you are right out of you. 

I’ll be honest, though— never been a good enough liar not to be, haha. Half of me wants you here because I think it’s the right thing to do, and I think it might destroy you to sit by while Fódlan gets shaken to pieces. The other half of me just wants you here. 

So… what do you say? Wanna get disinherited with me? 

Ready and waiting,

Caspar

* * *

Beacon of Impatience,

Could you not have waited a mere week longer? Requisitions take an absurd amount of time and energy, especially under the constraints of secrecy. As it stands, I had to depart with only two-thirds of the supplies I had intended to take with me, though I did manage to snag a substantial bit of currency through fortunate happenstance as I left, so I suppose the effort was not a total wash.

At the very least, your letter gave enough advance warning that I was able to leave before word reached my father. Had he known that you left, the amount of scrutiny that would fall upon me would pass beyond the realm of absurdity. 

Allow that to sink in, Caspar. My father would not doubt for a moment that I would follow you. My father. So why is it that you, of all people, are unsure of my response? Of course I’m joining you. I know not of who you might have mistaken me for, if for a single moment you harbored any thoughts to the contrary. 

If it was not obvious, I have been making preparations for the past month. Knowing you to be the person you are, I assumed that you’d charge ahead soon enough; however, I am more than a little dismayed at your resolution to wait until after you had departed to consult with me. Honestly, Caspar. I know you to be impulsive, but this is too much by far. 

As it is, I, soft and squishy and made of vulnerable flesh as I am, must make the journey with only Dorothea and her four magnificent swords to protect me. I haven’t a clue where she hides them, but I have seen her use each in turn while travelling. Her fifth sword, unfortunately, was melted through a truly excessive use of thunder magic, but who am I to object? As previously stated, I have the hardy physique of spun glass, and she travels with multiple weapons on her person. 

Much as her company is appreciated, I am more than a little put-out at having to make the journey without you. However, upon reflection, I cannot fault you for taking your leave first. You’ve always been braver— and far less inclined to waiting— than I. Rushing ahead has always been in your nature, just as following at a leisurely pace has been in mine. Even so, I am following.

Trust me in this, Caspar: wherever you go, I will follow. 

Almost there,

Linhardt

* * *

Linhardt-in-Waiting,

Only you could make something so nice sound like a threat, haha. Feels kinda like I’m being chased by mercenaries, or something! 

Or, well, I probably am at this point, but none of them could hold a candle to you, so I’m probably fine. I think if I were really hiding out— like, covering every trace— you’d still be able to find me. Then you’d say something like, “Caspar, did you really imagine it possible that I would somehow forget your tendency to climb trees when it’s autumn and a wind is blowing from the south-east, honestly,” or something like that, and I’d go, “Lin, I didn’t even know I did that,” and you’d roll your eyes and shake your head at me and then pull out a bedroll because, “while some of us enjoy the tender embrace of a thousand would-be splinters, I prefer to take my rest with some modicum of comfort,” which would be a lie. I’ve seen you sleep against trees loads of times. Also on the floor of the monastery’s mess hall, which is probably way worse. 

Still, I’d rather have you following after me than a bunch of guys with swords, any day. Even more than that, though, I’d rather have you walking beside me. Sure, you might drag your feet sometimes, and, yeah, I get a bit impatient, but I like seeing the world from your pace. It’s nice to look over and know you’re right beside me.

A lot nicer than when I look around and realize I’ve taken off without you, anyway. 

I am sorry for charging ahead again, Lin. This one’s definitely my bad.

I know I shouldn’t have left without you. I was kinda panicking, though. Everything was going to flames, and the night I left was… Ugh. Father and his men were talking about where to send me like it was a done deal. They wanted to deploy me and a few men to suppress a band of ‘dissidents’. What a way to refer to a bunch of tradesmen who don’t have the room to put up a bunch of soldiers, am I right? 

Attacking people who’ve never learned the first thing about battle? People who aren’t doing anything to hurt anyone? That’s not justice. That’s just throwing your weight around to prove you can.

Funny thing is, I never said a word. Not through the entire conversation. And they didn’t notice. The whole conversation revolved around me, and it still wasn’t about me. _ [Whatever was written here has been scratched out beyond all legibility.] _ I’m beginning to think none of it ever was. 

But, well, all of that really wasn’t about me. It was about attacking a bunch of civilians. So! I left. Didn’t even really know I was gonna leave ‘till I did, and here you are saying you never expected anything else. Makes me kind of sheepish, but hey, you’ve always seemed to know what I was gonna do before I did it. Wish you would have let me know, though! Maybe then I would have had time to pack as much as you did.

I actually had to take a break from writing this to laugh about that. As if there’s any universe where I’m as well-prepared as you, haha. Maybe in a world where you’re the one going around throwing a punch at all your problems!

That’s half the reason I could leave without marching up to your door and dragging you along, y’know. The way you’re always looking ahead, I mean. Not the alternate timeline where you punch things to death.

You’ve always been one of the smartest, kindest people I know, and you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. Sure, I’ll always want to fight by your side, and yeah, it tears me up to think what could happen to you while I’m not there to punch trouble in the face, but… 

You’re really strong, Lin. Sure, you’re all ‘vulnerable flesh’ and ‘spun glass’ and all those other words I’m pretty sure you picked up from Hilda— which, great example: I’ve seen her throw an axe like it weighed as much as a dagger— but if there’s anyone I trust to look after themself, it’s you. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to have your back, obviously. Everyone needs someone looking out for them, sometimes, and there’s no one I’d rather see on my side. It just means I feel a lot better in the times I can’t reach you as quickly.

It’s like… 

Okay. Remember when we were kids, and I tried to build a raft? Part of that was just me missing you and wanting my best friend around. The other part was just being scared to death of a million different things. Scared you weren’t coming back. Scared you’d get hurt while I wasn’t there to protect you (thought pretty highly of myself as an eight-year-old, huh). Scared you’d forget me while you were over in Hevring. 

I’m not scared anymore, Lin. An ocean couldn’t keep us apart. How does a war stand a chance?

See you soon,

Caspar

P.S. OH SHIT I ALMOST FORGOT! TELL THEA I SAID HI AND THAT SHE KICKS ASS! 

* * *

To my dearest little brother, 

I do kick ass, don’t I? Your flattery is almost enough to make me put aside being reduced to a post-script in your love letters. Honestly, Caspar. I know you know better than to leave a lady as an afterthought. Far be it from me to expect you to pay me more mind than you do Linny— I know an impossible task when I see one— but you could have at least made an effort. 

“Oh, how is my incredible older sister, by the way? What’s that, you say? She took on a group of men with nothing but her wits, thunder magic, and an impressive array of swords? Do tell me more!” It’s not hard to feign interest, you know. You’ve seen me interact with men at the monastery; that’s a masterclass in the craft in and of itself. 

I’m joking. (With regards to my offense, at least.) You know me well enough to take the rest as truth. No one has much time for correspondence in the onset of war, as much as we may wish it. Best to get what you want to say out while you can. 

With that lesson in mind: I’m fine, Linny’s fine, and we’re on our merry way to meet up with you as I put pen to paper. I must warn you, however: I, for one, won’t be sticking around for very long. There’s still much I need to do, and that involves quite a fair bit of travel. 

Remember when we spoke about the ways in which our training differs? While you fight for your future, I must fight for mine. I know that you will understand. 

In the meantime, I’ll keep Linny safe for you. No need to worry on our accounts. 

Speaking of our dear Linny, I would like to register a complaint: although I’m sure he’ll finish one of his letters eventually, he sure is wasting a fair amount of parchment in the process. Typical of a noble, I’d say, wasting paper like that, except the two of you have gone and thrown it out the window. 

Believe me, Caspar. Although I do understand why you have made the choice you did, we will have words when we next meet. All the days I spent pouring my heart out about the trials of climbing up the sheer cliff-face of status, and out the corner of my eye, I see you diving past, Linhardt under your arm. It’s enough to make me want to thoron the both of you. 

But, well. War changes things. Mind you, if you’d done this a few mere months ago, I would have strangled you both and left you to be eaten by Hilda’s wyvern. There are multiple work-arounds we could have come up with, most of which relying on my trust that Linny would be amenable to making certain changes in the various structures that would accompany the title he was set to inherit, and that you, with all the powerful allies you’ve made or were set to make, would lend your aid. 

What’s worse is that I’m convinced the both of you would have done so, if things were different. 

Ergh. Look what you’ve both done to me! Wasting paper with thoughts of what could be, instead of what is. The deck’s been shuffled, and we are all together in the discard pile, now. Commoners alike. 

At least Linny still has his crest to fall back on, the lucky fool. I wish I were less fond of the two of you, or that I could at least accuse you of refusing to consider the consequences. It would make my life so much easier. 

Your eternally exasperated older sister,

Dorothea

* * *

Thea,

You’re never gonna give the little brother thing a rest, huh? Though, I guess you’re allowed to call me a lot worse after the stunt Lin and I pulled. 

This is gonna sound really shitty, mostly because it is, but I didn’t think about you when I left. It was unfair of me, and <strike>probably</strike> cruel on top of that, considering I know how hard you’ve had to fight to get taken seriously. Sure, I was always gonna get less than Ordulf, but it was still more than you got. I didn’t have to fight to get into the monastery, or to get close to anyone. Just kinda took it for granted. 

I think the first time I realized what it must be like for you was back when everybody lost their heads and tried sending off letters to my brother. 

Hate to admit it, but I was kinda scared shitless. I was sure this was it— that Father was only a day’s ride away, coming closer every second, and once he arrived, it would all be over. No more school. No more seeing everyone. No chance of proving myself. 

I think you were one of the few people who really got why I was so freaked out. It just sucks that it took dealing with it myself to figure out why. I’m sorry you had to feel like that every day— I’d say I don’t know how you came out of it in one piece, but you’ve always been tougher than tough, Thea. 

I remember thinking, man, I’m never gonna forget this. There’s never gonna be a second where I let Dorothea think I’m not in her corner. 

Really fucked that one up, huh? 

I won’t apologize for doing what I know is right, but I will apologize for forgetting about you when I did it. I know I made the right choice, but it’s one you never got the chance to make. 

You’d be right to hate me, I think. Pretty sure I’d be pissed if Father had grabbed me outta Garreg Mach after all and then I found out Lorenz or someone just swanned off. Lorenz is probably a bad example, but you get what I mean. 

Probably selfish of me, but I’m glad you don’t. Hate me, I mean. I had to sit down for a minute when I saw the way you signed off, honestly. I know I’ve fought you on it, but… You’re probably the best sibling I could ask for. 

Was about to close off there, but then I remembered a few things I have to respond to, so:

  1. Thanks for looking after Lin. I tried to be cool in my last letter ‘cause I don’t wanna make it seem like I don’t trust him, but I worry about him, like, all the time.
  2. They’re not! Love letters! I’m just letting him know I trust him and that he’s important to me! 
  3. If Lin’s really using that much paper, Annette can teach him how to reuse it. We’ve been kind of holed up while waiting on information, so she’s been teaching me loads of useful stuff! Like how to avoid wasting paper when I write things out wrong. We’ve also done some really bad carpentry, haha. Neither of us is that great at doing nothing for too long. 

Stay safe,

Caspar

_ [A clumsy sketch of nails being hammered into wood takes up the remainder of the page.] _

* * *

My horrible little brother,

I said that we would have words when we met in person! Honestly! It’s improper to make a lady cry over a letter that’s not even well-organized! Put the funniest bits at the beginning, at least, so I can address them before I have to deal with actual sincerity. 

As I said, I understand why you made the choice you made. While it does hurt to have you confirm you weren’t thinking of me in the least, I’m glad to know that you didn’t make the choice without a single thought at all. <strike>If only</strike> Believe it or not, I actually think that your purple-haired analogy served you well. Nothing but the most extreme circumstances would separate Lorenz from Garreg Mach; it was too much a part of his ideals about being a proper noble for him to abandon it before war reached the gate. 

Circumstances change.

Putting all of that aside, (she says with all the grace and aplomb of a redwolf in a market), I am glad that you thought of me at school. It’s more than many did. For what it’s worth, Caspar, I never once doubted that you were on my side. You were— and are— a dear friend. 

A dear friend who is as dense as a mountain.

“They’re not love letters,” indeed. I caught a single phrase while reading your postscript. A single phrase, Caspar. And yet! That single phrase directed at our dear Linny was about as platonic as any letter I send off to— oh, it doesn't matter. 

Out of respect for my dear brother, I’ll leave well enough alone and stop teasing you. 

Right after this:

“The ocean couldn’t keep us apart,” Caspar? Really? I don’t think you need to worry about him doubting his importance to you. Saints. I cannot fucking believe you, sometimes. 

Alright. Now I’m done. 

Linny and I are making fast enough progress that we should see you almost as soon as this letter arrives, which means he’s running out of time to draft his. At this point, I’m close to taking Annette’s workshop on the reuse of paper in his stead. Anything would be an improvement on the current waste I’m enduring.

Speaking of our dear Annie, please stop enabling each other. I’m begging you. If we find you both living in a cabin that you’ve somehow cobbled together in the three seconds you’ve been left alone, I’ll… well, I’ll probably just laugh for a very long time. 

All my best,

Your doting sister

P.S. Goddess save me. He’s started another letter. I may snap his quill.

* * *

_ [The following letters were crumpled and never sent, much to the obvious irritation of the writer’s travelling companion.] _

Caspar,

How am I supposed to respond to such a show of faith? How do you expect me to

-∰-

Caspar, 

Why is it that no matter what you expect of me, I always find myself wanting to prove myself worthy of your belief? I fumble for the familiar exhaustion, waiting for it to settle upon me, but instead, I feel warm. It’s disconcerting, the extent to which I would go to

-∰-

You’ve always been braver than

-∰-

<strike> My Dear Friend </strike>

<strike> Partner </strike>

<strike> Bruiser?? </strike>

<strike> Fellow disowned party, </strike>

This is beyond ridiculous. 

-∰-

Deares

_ [The letter devolves into a string of cursive a’s, curling upon themselves until they become illegible scribbles.] _

-∰-

I am not strong, Caspar. I wish I was, that I was the man you see me as, but the reality is much less impressive. The reality is a scribbled list of far too many forms of address, rejecting any that may be too revealing, or worse, prove distant enough to push you away. And for what? A half-hearted attempt at avoiding exposure? 

I know what exposure would be. I know what vulnerability would be. It would be nothing less than the full extent of a summer day’s warmth. And I flinch at the thought of it. 

I am not strong.

I have known the shape of your love for a decade. It is as all-consuming and constant as a flame, and if I were to allow myself to bask in its warmth, I fear what its eventual absence may do to me. 

-∰-

Caspar,

You mentioned the raft. 

The night my father sat me down and told me— carefully, sternly— that you could have died if you’d made it to the harbor, I turned to ice. Everything in me went heavy, cold, sunken, as if I had disappeared beneath the waves in your place. 

That was the day I learnt what it would be like to lose you. A mere phantom of the reality, but enough. It was enough. 

I can still feel the cold, if I try. I starve it off as best I can, beating it back, but I feel it still whenever we march into battle, stronger and colder than before. Sometimes the ice makes it so that I can barely heal, hands shaking. It’s hard to have faith in our future when I’m all too aware of how I could lose you. 

Perhaps it’s blasphemy, for that to be the source of my faith. I can’t find myself caring. I’ve knit together more bones by trusting in a future we’ll shape together than I ever have by praying. 

That’s what I stand to lose by reaching for your hand, Caspar. 

As it is, I may freeze, waiting for a summer that may never dawn. But if your fire is stolen from me, just as I allow myself to feel your warmth in its entirety, the second I’ve let you convince me the cold was only a distant fear… 

I would not freeze. I would shatter.

-∰-

I wish I could say this wasn’t worth the risk. I would feel much less cowardly, that way. But being loved by you would perhaps be the most worthwhile

-∰-

I flatter myself by pretending my only fear is losing you. Plenty of people fear that. It’s a well-worn anxiety, nurtured by friends and loved ones, well-fed by distance and conflict. You, yourself, admitted to it. 

Although, you mentioned harboring such an emotion at the age of eight, while I’m stuck prodding it with an interrogative stick almost a decade afterwards. It’s a miracle you believe me capable of keeping the same pace as you, honestly. Flattering beyond all belief, but patently ridiculous. 

If that were truly the only barrier, my silence would almost be honorable. Sparing us both from the pain of separation. Albeit, you directly contested this in your last letter, which frankly shouldn’t be allowed. Rebuttals should be reserved for after the opposing side makes their argument, thank you. 

You always have to rush ahead of me. 

Look at me. Circling around the subject in a letter that will never even cross your hands. No one but you would ever accuse me of strength, Caspar. 

I’ve long said that I’m a creature without pride or dignity. I exist only to soak up as much information as interests me, then collapse into a pile of boneless, hedonistic indulgence and sleep for the next twelve or thirty-six hours. Ironically (paradoxically), that is something I take pride in.

Let me restate: I allowed myself to grow proud of my ability to dispense with pointless matters of ego in the pursuit of more important things. You can see where I may have miscalculated.

In the end, I’m just as bound by accursed pride as my father ever was, even if it has taken a far different shape in me. While he is preoccupied only with his reputation and the power he wields, I am much more fearful of being wrong. 

Hypotheses are meant to be tested, of course. Supported, unsupported, tested, untested. There’s no right or wrong. Just facts that can be cobbled together into a conclusion. 

Selfishly, I do not want my hypothesis to be tested. I simply want my conclusions to prove true. 

My evidence has been collected over the course of years: thousands of small moments where I have found myself staring at you as if struck, unable to speak, certain that you are about to tell me you love me. Something in your smile, or the way you still carry the charm I made for you, though it’s tattered beyond repair. The way you reach for my hand. You coming to wake me and return me to my room whenever I nap outside past nightfall. The ribbon that can barely hold back my hair anymore, worn as it is from its years of service. 

I was so sure you would tell me by now. You have always been the braver of us, after all, and if I felt moved, ready to confess, then certainly <strike>you would</strike>

But that’s just it. You have always been braver. And if you have said nothing, you, of all people, then isn’t it likely it’s due to lacking the motivation in the first place? Is it not more likely that my rationalisations of the way your smile softens in my direction, or how your hand grasps mine are the product of my own desires? Is this only my own arrogance?

You have always been braver than I, and the inconceivable effort of leaving myself open, of presenting the years and years of data, of saying “this is how I know you, and this is how you know me,” and inviting you to prove me wrong, to say that I’ve misread the years and centimeters between us so grievously— it leaves me staggering just to imagine it. 

I would like to think that in a kinder time, I would still make the effort. Even now, I want to make the effort. 

And yet there is the war. 

And yet there is the ice. 

And yet there is me. 

-∰-

I think I have become more selfish. More cruel, almost. I must have become something, to hope that it is the war that is preventing the both of us from saying what we mean, and that once it reaches its end, you will tell me you love me. We will likely still be disinherited, the both of us, and all the previous excuses— undemanding frivolities as they were, such as family expectations and the responsibility for the wellbeing and socioeconomic growth of the entire population of Hevring— will melt away. 

It will be safe when the war ends, I think, to be loved by you. After all, it has always been easy to love you. Maybe it will be easy enough, then, that I can bear the load of being brave.

* * *

Caspar,

It certainly seems as if nothing is capable of separating us for long; Goddess knows every possible obstacle is set on proving the point for you. It feels as if every ruffian in Fódlan has attempted to greet Dorothea and I with a friendly dagger to the ribs.

I think it will be worth it, in the end, to see whatever ornate structure you and Annette have pulled together in the absence of supervision. I, for one, expect columns. Dorothea believes that it is more likely you have only just mastered the delicate art of the lean-to. 

As for my preparations: of course I knew you would leave. I know you don’t often think of yourself as a strategic thinker— Saints know you leap well before looking— but I saw the way you went about prodding for answers before everything came to a head. You must have attended more of Professor Byleth’s office hours in that last month than you had in the past eight combined. You may not have known you were leaving until the moment came, but I believe you made your choice long before then. 

Much stranger to me is the strength of your belief that I would do well enough without you. Your faith in me is staggering, and although I am grateful for it, I must urge you not to place the full weight of anything, much less your conviction, on my fragile shoulders. Not unless you’re there to help me carry it. 

Yes, I have survived without your company before. However, I urge you to consider the long-suffering nature of my missives whenever I was confronted with the prospect. No, I may not require your company to trudge on through the murk and the mud, but it makes everything quite a bit easier, and you know how much I despise exerting more effort than necessary. I am only as strong as I must be, and unlike you, I have never desired to test my limits. 

If I reach you before this letter is delivered, I beg you to allow me to shred it, set it on fire, or eat it stewed because I cannot imagine the agony of having to watch you read it while I sit only a meter away. This is not a joke. As willing as I may be to repeat some variation of this to you in person, I can imagine no greater horror than watching you read, only for you to look up every five moments or so to comment upon my words. This, in no small part, is why I have never mirrored your habit of conducting imaginary conversations in my letters, though I find yours endlessly entertaining. 

Hopefully soon to arrive but not yet present,

Linhardt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caspar actually goes through more drafts than Linhardt, but now that he's mastered the art of working with palimpsests and papermaking, he's basically unstoppable.


	7. 1186: Accords and According

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of emotional highs and lows when you're in your early twenties, you're still figuring out how boundaries work, and you're barely getting any sleep. Also there's a war going on

_[This notice was initially posted in the Dining Hall; however, after being carried around by an owl and dropped on various individuals’ heads, it has been marred by a few punctures, rips, and general signs of wear-and-tear.]_  
  
Residents of Garreg Mach,  
  
As I’ve been functioning under the assumption that everyone present is aware that there is a war going on, I can only guess that some mysterious case of rapid-onset temporary amnesia has fallen upon the Monastery. For those affected, please recall that we have exceptionally meager supplies and funds, as a group generally does after five years of war.  
  
This means that we cannot afford to waste paper passing notes, especially when you refuse to reuse the paper on which they’re written. It does not matter if you possess a skill if none of you ever actually use it, choosing instead to sit on your hoard of paper like a bunch of brooding hens. While it was bearable when you were all students attempting to survive the last vestiges of puberty, there is, in fact, a war going on, and you do, in fact, live in the same location.  
  
You may send missives as usual to your comrades when they are not stationed at the same physical location as you. Otherwise, please resist the urge to inform each other what you ate for lunch via quill.  
Your understanding is appreciated.  
  
\- Byleth

  
-∰-

_[This annotation was penned in smooth, flowing script. It would almost look like calligraphy on an official document if it were not crammed in the margins of the notice.]   
  
_Sorry, Teach! Everyone seemed so excited to see each other again that I didn’t think there was much harm in a little note-passing. Though, I admit that a few months after the fact is a bit excessive.  
  
I take full responsibility— I’ll make sure everyone calms down. No more notes.

  
-∰-

  
_[The following annotation is written in almost indecipherable calligraphy. It is almost completely comprised of flourishes.]_  
  
As you should, Claude. I do not mean to speak out of turn, especially in such a public setting, but it is your duty to be aware of the various concerns and difficulties faced by those around you before it becomes something worthy of external action. Especially considering you are more guilty than any of us when it comes to unnecessary epistles.

_-∰-  
_

_[The same handwriting from the first annotation is much more cramped, likely due to the rapidly decreasing amount of space.]_  
  
Oh, absolutely. I’m definitely the worst offender out of all of us. You know me— Can’t stop writing invitations to tea parties to everyone I’ve ever met, or detailed reports on how, exactly, the behavior of the people around me has deviated from the perfect model of nobility.

  
-∰-

  
_[The flourishes on this annotation are much more subdued.]_  
  
Point taken.

  
-∰-

  
I have now underlined the pertinent instructions in my request, seeing as none of it has seemed to sink in.  
  
_[The above annotation from Byleth is the same size as the script they used in their initial announcement. If this was an attempt to discourage further commentary, it did not work.]_

  
-∰-

Sorry, Teach, but to be fair: I didn’t waste any new paper. This is practically recycling.

-∰-

  
One day the last bit of color will leech from my hair, and it will not be the war’s fault.

* * *

Linhardt,  
  
Teach literally just told us all not to pass notes, but I know you’re barely awake enough to process human speech when you go down to the dining hall, much less read anything. Long and short of it, you and Caspar have got to cool it with the internal memos.  
  
Before you sass me, trust me, I know I’m undermining my own point here. Don’t really have much of a choice though, since I have to ship out in the morning, and I have no clue when you’re supposed to wake up. Pretty sure the owl’s got a more reliable circadian rhythm than you, at this point.  
  
I cannot believe Lorenz really accused me of being ‘more guilty than any of us’ when you and Caspar exist as people. I’m reeling. Kudos to you for avoiding the man so effectively that he hasn’t caught you tearing through our stationery stores. He’s caught me handing off a note to Hilda once, and he’s acting like <strike>I’m the one who can’t stop writing eight billion letters about my undying devotion to my closest comrade in arms, all the time, forever, jus  
</strike>  
Sorry, I’m being a dick. That was out of line. Things have been wearing on me, but it’s not fair to any of you to take it out on other people, even in the guise of ‘jokes’. Not when we’re all trying to make it out the best we can.  
  
Don’t let my bad taste in jokes make you self-conscious. It’s reassuring to see you two acting like normal, honestly. It’s something to hold onto. Life’s going on.  
  
It sure is only hours before dawn, huh? Lack of sleep makes maudlin fools of us all. I should take a page from your book and sleep while I can.  
  
Before I give this up as a complete wash, though, I’m being serious about the note thing. I think Teach is about five seconds from sewing the notice to your shirt.  
  
Take care,  
  
Claude

* * *

  
Claude,  
  
Note how this letter is being sent from the monastery to a secondary location, physically removed from the place in which it was penned, just as I have been instructed. Personally, I don’t see why missives that require a great deal more resources and effort on the part of multiple parties are fully permissible, but exchanging scraps of paper with individuals with whom your schedule hardly aligns is taboo. At least passing notes doesn’t result in an exhausted horse. In addition, they don’t often require multiple drafts.  
  
Yes, I will admit that this is not my first attempt at putting my thoughts to paper. I found myself rather <strike>ang</strike> <strike>embar</strike> embarrassed and frustrated after reading your communique. Perhaps it is a good thing you had to leave; I’m not sure I would have had time to gather my thoughts before I lambasted you with my initial reaction. In some ways, I am more impulsive than even Caspar can claim.  
  
I know that I am obvious. I am in no need of reminders.  
  
That said, I am aware of the weight that has fallen upon us all, as well as how easy it is for our hands to slip and knees to buckle under it. The weight you carry is far heavier than mine. I find myself almost relieved that the only lapse in judgement you’ve fallen prey to thus far has been making an ill-considered joke. At least this way, the only casualty was my pride.  
  
I won’t begrudge you this. However, my forgiveness is somewhat conditional. I have been unable to determine why you did not simply restart the letter upon realizing your joke would be poorly received. If it were a matter of your new concern regarding wasting paper, you would have simply scratched the phrase into illegibility. Instead, you barely drew a line through the thing. All I ask is that you provide some explanation for leaving it there.  
  
As it is, the only conclusions I can draw are that you are counteracting your own statement regarding making me self-conscious, or that there is, in fact, some degree of sincerity in your jab. That apprehension carried me through the venom that saturated my first draft. However, upon reflection, neither of those reasonings hold water. Neither fit with any pattern of behavior you’ve demonstrated; you are simply not that kind of person. You may be necessarily duplicitous at times, but never cruel.  
  
I will end my missive here, as I am tired, and have nothing else to say. Besides, if it should continue any further, I would risk my message taking up another length of paper. Who could bear such an atrocity?  
  
Awaiting your reply,  
  
Linhardt

* * *

  
Linhardt,  
  
Y’know, I’ve been told that I treat everything a little too much like a strategy game, but you might have me beat. Sure, I’m always looking for what people really mean underneath what they actually say, but that’s just playing it safe. Maybe that means I should’ve expected you to misread my intentions that way and cut it off at the pass. What can I say? We can’t always be prepared for every angle.  
  
I do have to say, it was kinda overwhelming to realize you trust me not to be cruel. If we’re talking about the weight of responsibility and expectation, well, that’s one I’ll gladly bear. And, hey, while we’re talking about that: it’s basically the sum total of that explanation you wanted.  
  
That’s not just a joke, or an awkward transition, y’know. The whole reason is that I didn’t want to shrug off the weight of my mistake, even if it’s just a bad joke. I’m holding myself accountable. I’d rather admit to my mistakes and make up for them than pretend they never happened. Giving you proof I fucked up, so I have motivation not to in the future. If I step out of line, I’ll have someone I’m directly failing. Simple.  
  
Sure, it’s not smart to make your screw-ups obvious to a lot of people, but I think I can trust my comrade-in-certain-subjects-that-won’t-be-put-to-paper-while-we-are-forced-to-use-devout-churchgoing-messengers. To a certain extent.  
  
Anyway, I assume that the reason Teach wants us to keep written communication strictly to long distance is due to the fact we’re literally waging war, so sensitive messages and instructions kinda take precedent, along with reassuring people that everyone’s alive and well. Which! You can do pretty easily when you’re living in the same building. That’s just my take on the situation, though.  
  
Speaking of reassurance: Leonie and her mercenaries are un-fucking-believable. We expected this expedition to take a fortnight longer at the very least— as it stands, we may reach Garreg Mach barely a day after this letter does. Unfortunately, that also means that a number of you may find yourself further from home than you’d like, quicker than any of us intended.  
  
Ready yourself,  
  
Claude.

* * *

_[This notice was posted in the Garreg Mach infirmary, along with sheets of more detailed, individualized instructions for the leader of each healing team.]_

  
Thank you all for your continued patience and thoughtful feedback as we consider and adapt our strategy. You are some of the most skilled healers in all of Fódlan, and as such, your work and judgment is valuable beyond measure.  
  
Having taken both your input and individual preferences into account, your new assignments have been determined. Please review the provided documents as soon as possible. If you have any questions or concerns, see me immediately.  
  
-Byleth

* * *

  
Professor,  
  
Quite a dirty trick, to request we see you with any concerns, then vanish on a mission. I can only presume these are the skills that become necessary to learn when one is charged with leading mercenaries. (Or teenagers, come to think of it.)  
  
Unfortunately for you, I am neither of the aforementioned, and I have grievances that will not be assuaged by your disappearance.  
  
I am one of the most skilled bishops we have at our disposal, and have weathered more battles than a fair portion of our battalions. Why, then, have you sentenced me to twiddling my thumbs at the monastery while the war rages outside our door?  
  
Earnestly Bewildered,  
  
Linhardt

* * *

  
Linhardt,  
  
One day I’ll stop being surprised that you still extend me some courtesy as your former teacher. I assume that’s what spared me from being flayed alive by an endless string of barbs. The messenger thought I was expecting word of casualties, going by my reaction at seeing your seal on the letter— apparently lifting my eyebrows is a drastic enough expression to be a portent of doom. I’d say I should know better than to cause unnecessary distress, but I couldn’t help it. I still remember the incident with Caspar’s brother.  
  
That’s the thing about healers. You know how to find the places that hurt.  
  
The same could be said for professors, I suppose. Tacticians. Leaders. We have to look for the weak points. Work to cover for them.  
  
You hate being in battles, Linhardt. I know you can do it, that you will do it. I’ve had to make you do it, more often than not. You’re too skilled to waste. Doesn’t mean I enjoy forcing your hand.  
  
The decision was simple. We needed a skilled healer stationed at the monastery in case this maneuver goes badly. You’re a skilled healer. If I’m given the opportunity to use your abilities to their best advantage while giving you a reprieve from the butchery, I will do so. That is all.  
  
I’d say I’m surprised that you’re objecting to being given the opportunity to sit out, but that would only insult the both of us. We both know that you’re the largest obstacle in the path of your own devotion to hedonism. Napping on the battlefield can’t hide the fact that you’re there of your own free will. The hazards of caring for people.  
  
It goes both ways, by the way. When you give your all for people, they do the same for you.  
  
I wasn’t the only person that made this decision. Other people think you deserve a break from battle, too. I’d caution you not to take this up with each of them individually.  
  
I don’t think we have enough paper, you see.  
  
Byleth

* * *

  
Caspar,  
  
While you venture forth into blood and muck and who knows what else, I am enjoying the various luxuries of sitting around and doing absolutely fuck all, save for when the occasional member of our forces stumbles in and begins to bleed profusely on the floor. As you can likely tell, I will be cross beyond belief if you end up as one of them.  
  
On second thought, perhaps I will be more impressed that you crossed such a large distance. For the brief moment before my distress sets in, anyway, considering the implications such a journey would bear. It’s been enough of a relief to know that your battalion is travelling with two full healing teams that I might collapse at the thought that even they were not enough.  
  
As it stands, Mercedes and Marianne are skilled and competent leaders, and I have no doubt that their teams would be more than suited to the task, should any weapon find itself closer to you than the length of your axe would allow.  
  
I find myself hoping, unrealistically, that their skills are never needed.  
  
Stay safe,  
  
Linhardt  
  
P.S. As per the terms of our agreement, as discussed last week, I will not disclose the details of my recent breakthrough in research until you have come home. If you wish to know what has me so excited, you’ll just have to keep yourself alive, well, and in one piece.

* * *

  
_[These drafts were never sent, though they were also spared from being reduced into pulp and reused.]_

  
Lin,  
  
I miss you too, you big softy.  
  
Feels like whenever we get split up, I spend the whole time looking for you, even though I know you’re not here. Caught myself doing it today, even. The fog’d been dragging everyone down— felt like another layer, almost— but then the sun came through. It hit the side of the mountain, clouds just behind it, and the first thing I thought was “If there’s anything we can count on, it’s the sun coming back around,” and my second was, “Lin has got to see this!” But, uh, kinda hard when you’re not there, haha.  
  
One day I’ll show you, though. I memorized the exact spot, just so that when the war’s over, I can say “this is where I remembered what sunlight feels like, and I thought of yo  
  
Or not! Cause I caught myself, and reread that and you’d think I’d know better by now but nope  
  
Can’t send this after all huh  
  
The professor’s gonna kill me

  
-∰-

  
I just want to be a good thing in your life, Lin. Everything’s always so complicated for you. I don’t wanna be something else to worry about or second-guess or just another bunch of expectations that you have to carry around. You deserve a good, simple thing.

  
-∰-

  
Lin,  
  
It’s funny how the professor worries over us wasting paper when we’re all saddled up together in the monastery. I waste way more when I’m out on my own. I never know what words to put together or how to fit them right, but it’s not as big a deal when I can just pulp it and put it all back together the next time around. Can’t really haul a mould and deckle around a battlefield, though, so that’s out.  
  
Y’know, I told the professor that we didn’t even really need to use old paper to make new stuff before I left. Annette and I’ve been experimenting, and pretty much any fiber’ll do. Joked that we could finally put the cats around the monastery to work, even— they shed enough hair that we could probably manage a ream or two from just what they leave behind.  
  
Don’t know how to feel about Professor Byleth looking like they were seriously considering it. I don’t think I wanna write on cat-hair paper. Worse, they’ll have me make the stuff.  
  
And there we go again. Like I said, I don’t know what to write. Look at me! I’m writing about cat hair.  
  
Not that there’s much to talk about besides. I’m not gonna talk about battle to you, Lin. Not when you’ve had enough already.  
I could talk about the people we’ve met. The townsfolk who let us stay, even though we don’t have near as much to offer as the Empire. The kids in town who asked me to teach them how to throw a punch— some of their parents weren’t too happy, but some of ‘em actually thanked me, and I’m still trying to decide how I feel about it either way.  
  
But, well… We have an agreement, Lin. If it feels like stuff I should tell you in person, tell you in person, right?  
  
Gotta make sure we both make it through.

* * *

  
Lin,  
  
C’mon, buddy. I’m almost insulted by your lack of faith here. You know that I wouldn’t die even if I got killed. After all, I gotta get back to you.  
  
Besides, the longer I’m out here, the more I’m convinced the war’s gonna end soon. I might not have time to get roughed up enough to need proper healing, the way the tide’s changing. Might not even have time to figure out what I’ll do afterwards.  
  
It’s kinda funny. When I was convinced the professor was gonna kick me out, I’d packed up all my stuff before I even brought it up to them. But… I honestly don’t know where I expected to go. Always been more of a do-er than a planner.  
  
But now I’m thinking, and I’m not sure. Being a mercenary sounds cool, but I want to do things because they’re the right thing to do, not for payment. I mean, sure, we’ll need money to survive— Thea’d beat me up if I pretended we didn’t— but I just want to help people. Maybe travel a bit while I’m at it. It’d be a shame if the only time I got to see Fódlan is when it’s covered in bodies.  
  
Just reread that, and wow, did not mean that to sound gruesome. What I meant is that the world’s beautiful, and it’s full of people who need help. They have their own stories, and troubles, and way of dealing with things, but the war’s kind of put a lot of that on hold. I want to see how the world looks when life’s going on, and help it along the way.  
  
OH, RIGHT! Speaking of life on its way!  
  
One of the mousers at the farmhouse we stayed at had kittens! I helped out a bit, but the family’s done this before, so they did most of the work. Felt kinda bad that they’re already letting us camp out in their barn and I couldn’t even handle this for them, but it’s their cat, and I’m sure she felt a lot safer with her family handling things than me bumbling around.  
  
The smallest kid— her name’s Sofia— asked me if I wanted one of the kittens. Almost broke my heart to say no, so I didn’t. (I can see the look on your face, Lin. No, I did not drag a cat onto the battlefield! I have more sense than that!)  
  
I told her that it’d be a while until the kittens could see and walk, much less spend too much time away from their mom, and it’s be unfair to drag a cat around the countryside while things are like this. The kid understood, but she looked so sad that I told her I’d be honored if she held onto the kitten for me, just until things settled.  
  
So, I guess the first thing I’m doing once the war ends is adopting a cat! I can tell he and Big Guy are gonna be great friends, once I introduce them.  
That reminds me: how’s Big Guy doing? Ashe told me he’s been eating less in his last letter, and I worry about him.  
  
Concerned Cat Dad,  
  
Caspar

* * *

  
_[Unlike most of Linhardt’s drafts, this one was not crumpled or discarded. It was instead placed carefully to the side of his desk, where it stayed for several weeks, along with the letter that prompted it.]_

  
Caspar,  
  
Are you aware you said ‘we’ when you spoke of your future?  
  
How ridiculous am I for that to fill me with more hope than all else.

* * *

  
Overprotective Cat Hoarder,  
  
I cannot believe the vast expanse of the monastery’s cat population is not enough to sate your innate need to be surrounded by the creatures. One day I will wander over to each of my favorite napping spots in turn, only to find they have each been stolen by various adopted animals. Exhausted, I will return to my bed, only to find that it has been co-opted by Big Guy himself.  
  
What’s worse is that this does, in fact, fall within the realm of possibility. Ashe has informed me that the hulking beast you both insist on calling a cat has learnt how to tuck himself into beds. This is horrifying. Cats should not be capable of using their paws with the degree of dexterity and coordination that Big Guy employs, and I can only assume he is learning from his fathers. I beg the both of you to stop teaching him before he advances to the use of weapons. The image of the beast obtaining a grappler certification haunts my nightmares.  
  
If you could not gather from the above, the “cat” seems healthy enough, and Ashe says he’s back to eating his usual amount of food, although he qualified, “usual for when he’s not swindling the both of us into feeding him.” I cannot believe you were defrauded by an animal, and I am only now hearing about it.  
  
In any case, I worry that it may be difficult to balance caring for your cats and wandering about as a vigilante. I’m sure you’ve either thought of or are in the process of thinking up something, but there’s no harm in me mentioning the obvious complications. While I’m at it, I urge you not to attempt designing some form of harness. I know you, Caspar, and I also know that sheer determination will not make strapping a cat to your chest a good idea. Yes, I know parents do it with their children all the time. Not when said parents are sell-swords, or vigilantes, or any other form of fighter. Try something else.  
  
As for my plans for the future… Well, as much as I find the appeal of being alone with my research alluring, I think that perhaps, with someone by my side, I would get much more out of letting them lead the way. The longer the war rages, the more I tire of solitude, of not being able to see with my own eyes that the people I care for are safe. Still, I imagine that standing next to one person in particular, hand in hand when the dust settles… that will make the war worth it.  
  
How’s this for an answer? When the war ends, my plan is to never again be parted from the one person who matters most.  
  
Looking towards the future,  
  
Linhardt

* * *

  
_[The handwriting of the following letter is much sloppier than usual, as if written in a rush.]  
_  
LIN,  
  
YOU LIKE SOMEONE AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME? ME, YOUR BEST FRIEND?  
  
Forget about like! It sounds like you love this person if you want to spend the rest of your LIFE with them! And you never said anything to me!  
  
It’s not even like you to keep your cards close to your chest! I’ve seen you walk up to people in the middle of the library to talk about some super secret research no one’s supposed to know about like it’s no big deal! HOW did you hang onto THIS!  
  
Who is it??  
  
I mean, you don’t have to tell me— obviously there’s gotta be a reason you’ve kept quiet about it so far, but I’m your best friend, and I’m here for you to lean on no matter what the obstacles might be. I really hope it’s not something like you thought I’d tell them— I’d never betray you like that, ever! But I know you overthink things a lot, so I’m sorry if I ever gave off even a hint of an impression that that was a risk.  
  
_[The handwriting becomes more controlled from this point onwards.]  
_  
Sorry, Lin, that all looks pretty invasive when I reread it. Probably why you haven’t told me about whoever it is you have feelings for before now, whoops. You can ignore all that if you really want. I was just surprised that you’d never told me anything.  
  
Though, this probably counts as one of those things we have to save for when we see each other, huh? Gotta survive to hear about whoever’s lucky enough to have caught your eye, haha.  
  
Anyway, I’ll stop harping on about this. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable!  
  
I’m glad Big Guy’s okay. He’s so talented! Maybe if we train him up enough, he can be my adjutant haha. As for the harness, I was thinking that strapping the cats to my back might be more effective, but I’m guessing you’re gonna veto that idea too. (Joke! Kind of.)  
  
Pretty sure you’re to blame for the cat-collecting, by the way. I’ve had you around for over a decade, Lin! Seeing a living thing sleeping next to me fourteen hours a day is how I know everything’s alright in the world.  
  
It’s why I gotta rely so much on these letters! Also why I sometimes get too intense with the questions, whoops.  
  
Too Nosy for My Own Good,  
  
Caspar

* * *

  
To The Most Oblivious Soul in All of Fódlan,  
  
Yes, Caspar, this is indeed one of the many things I thought would be best discussed in person. All things considered, it likely still qualifies as such. However, I am at my utmost limit. If I spent the next month or more waiting for your return, the words within me would roil into such a revolt that I believe I may burn myself upon them.  
  
And yet our promise stands. I am not a generally superstitious person, Caspar, but I want to hold onto this promise. Just in case. I want at least this bit of insurance, much as it pains me, that we will see each other once again and hold a conversation.  
  
I will not write a name. In every way save this one, I will be honest and forthright. Call it cowardice if you will, some last semblance of protection against exposure, but I will describe him in every manner other than direct identification. Call it accountability, if you will. Insurance that, in time, I will make my feelings known.  
  
You know him well. I was so sure I had given myself away a thousand times or more, seeing as you are so familiar with the both of us, and yet you ask me who the object of my affections may be. Either I am much more subtle than I thought, or <strike>you don’t</strike>... I am yet uncertain that you’re not feigning ignorance, though I know you would never do such a thing.  
  
He is the kindest and most passionate person I have ever known. There isn’t a single person in the world that he wouldn’t attempt to help, if he could. Not if he saw them suffering. All he has ever wanted was to fight for what’s right and protect anyone he could.  
  
I know that he thinks the people around him are stronger than he is, though he trains endlessly. He rushes into fights with impossible odds, and what’s more, he wins. This is partly because of his incredible strength, of course, but it has much more to do with the way he earnestly seeks out ways to improve. He listens to people when they give him advice and is willing to make judgements regarding how truly effective each piece of commentary is.  
  
That ability to listen has also served him in forging bonds with everyone he encounters. The way he lifts people up and makes them believe they can do most anything— he’s like sunlight embodied. He enters a room and the people around him are suddenly assured that there will be another day, and moreover, it will be a kind one.  
  
No matter how hard a day, or week, or year has been, he never fails to brighten it. A word from him can prompt a smile from me; a sentence, a laugh. He’s ridiculous. He’s wonderful. He’s him.  
  
Of course I love him, Caspar. There was never going to be a world in which I didn’t. Not one in which he is who he is, and I am who I am.  
It has always been so simple to love him.  
  
Does that satisfy your curiosity?  
  
If not, we will speak in person. So come back to the Monastery in one piece.  
  
Waiting,  
  
Linhardt

* * *

  
Lin,  
  
I kinda knew that whoever you loved would have to be pretty great. You’re the smartest person I know, and that, plus how kind you are, makes you a pretty good judge of character. You wouldn’t fall in love with just anyone, haha.  
  
Still, kinda took me off guard to read just how much you love this guy. He sounds like the luckiest person in the world, honestly. Having you know him like that? Love him like that? It must be the best feeling in the world.  
  
It’s probably tasteless to guess when we’re so close to talking in person again, but I’m pretty sure I know who you’re talking about, and I can’t say it doesn’t make sense. The way you talk about him makes him sound like the best guy in the world, and honestly, I can’t disagree. I think anyone could fall in love with Ashe, given the chance.   
  
If I'm right and it is Ashe, though, I call custody on Big Guy when you two start travelling together. If he has you looking after him, I’ll need a big sleepy friend replacement. Fair’s fair.  
  
Ugh. Okay, that’s not fair. Ashe can keep Big Guy if you both send me drawings of him, like, every month so I know he’s okay. Big Guy, I mean. I don’t need drawings of Ashe.  
  
I do hope I’m guessing right, honestly. You and Ashe are two of my best friends, and you both deserve happiness, and if it isn’t Ashe, then it’s probably Raphael, and I know he and Ignatz are— Yeah. You probably know better than I do, if it is, and I just… I don’t want you to be hurting over loving someone.  
  
You deserve every ounce of love, every bit of sunlight whoever it is can give to you, Lin. You say this person is the kindest guy you know, but you’re probably the kindest one he knows. Saints know I’ve never met anyone in the world like you.  
  
Whoever it is you love, he’s lucky. He’s really lucky.  
  
Wishing You Every Happiness,  
  
Caspar

* * *

  
Thea,

It’s official. I’m the worst friend in the world.  
  
I still remember when you told me it was gonna end up this way, y’know. Goddess I’m so stupid.  
  
I don’t know what I  
  
Okay, I know what I thought. I convinced myself that I was letting everything go and I could just stop being in love with Lin because it wasn’t gonna do any good for him, and we could just live together as friends and it would be fine but now that’s never going to happen because he’s in love with someone who deserves him and I’m a horrible friend who feels like I’m going to throw up because I’m losing him and he deserves so much better so I have to pretend I’m  
  
No, I am happy for him. I am happy for him, but it hurts. Two things can be true.  
  
Seiros. I feel like a spoiled brat whose favorite toy got taken away. I can’t cling to him. It won’t be fair and he’ll hate me.  
  
I can handle him loving someone else. I can’t handle him hating me.  
  
I know I said you were right, before, but that was before I calmed down. If I’d told him how I felt when you wanted me to, it might have held him back. I’d never want him to risk his own happiness for my sake. Even if I wish I could be part of  
  
I hate being jealous. I hate the way it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I hate the way it makes me feel like I’m betraying Lin. I hate feeling like I’m not enough when I know Lin’s never once thought that. I know I’m his best friend. I know he loves me, and I hate that it still hurts just because it’s not the same as mine. I don’t want to be this kind of person.  
  
This is why I tried to pretend I didn’t  
  
Lin deserves better. And I’m glad he’s getting it. I’m just  
  
Sorry, Thea. This is all over the place. I can’t get my thoughts in order the way I want, but I don’t know how to make it better, and you’ve never had patience for bullshit so I thought asking you might  
  
Sorry. I wish you were here.  
  
Caspar

* * *

  
Caspar,

You are not stupid. I won’t have anyone talk down to my little brother that way, not even you. You’re a kind individual who’s in a great deal of pain, with far too much of it self-inflicted. Please stop punishing yourself for feeling things. You’re allowed to have negative emotions, believe it or not.  
  
If you were the kind of person to lash out when you’re hurt, maybe I’d criticize you the way you obviously want me to. Unfortunately, you’re my compassionate little brother who’s beating himself up over feeling things in the first place, so that’s not gonna happen. You’re just going to have to endure my unconditional support instead, like you should have had from the beginning.  
  
I’m so, so sorry, hon. I am so sorry that you’re hurting. You shouldn’t remember the things I said to you— I shouldn’t have said them the way I did. I was frustrated and taking my own insecurities out on you because of the way things were going in my own life, and I was afraid the both of us were going to miss out on being with the people we love.  
  
I keep looking at your letter, trying to figure out what you need right now. What we both need to say. And I think I know.  
  
Caspar, I need you to understand that love isn’t something people are ‘enough’ or ‘not enough’ for. It’s not something that people deserve or don’t deserve either. I won’t get on your back for acting like it is— Goddess knows I’ve been doing the same, fighting for it my entire life. Trying to win it, struggling for it, to the point where I didn’t notice it when I finally got it. But that’s the thing. We can’t keep thinking about it as something to earn, something to deserve, or we’ll waste our entire lives worrying about losing it. I almost lost Bern because of that. I won’t let you make the same mistakes.  
  
You have so much love, Caspar. You love so many people, and they can’t help but love you back. I know it’s not the same. I know it hurts to know the love you want isn’t the love you’re getting. But trust me when I say you will never be alone. Even if it hurts, even if you’re scared, you won’t be alone.  
Forgive me for taking a moment away from reassuring you to be tactless, but I can’t hold it back anymore.  
  
Who the hell does Lin have feelings for, if not you? I’ve been driving myself up the wall trying to puzzle it out ever since your letter arrived, but I’m coming up blank. The man’s brain is so full of crests he barely has room for his friends, much less romance! The last time I saw someone flirt with him, he acted like they were attempting to steal his bedclothes! He gets bored halfway through a conversation with most people!  
  
I truly am sorry, but what the fuck? I believe you when you say whoever it is passes standard, but I truly, sincerely, cannot begin to conceptualize who in the actual hell this person could be.  
  
You don’t need to tell me if it’ll hurt you to, but again, who the fuck?  
  
Thank you for enduring my moment of shock. Back to being considerate.  
  
Let me know what you need, hon. I’m here for you, whether it’s to give advice or just to distract you.  
  
Your doting sister,  
  
Dorothea

* * *

  
Thea,  
  
Guess you finally got me back for making you cry over a letter, huh? Ugh. I feel really uncool right now. Part of being a little brother, I guess. Doesn’t matter how strong you get when your older sibling’s there to make you feel about six years old.  
  
You didn’t even know me when I was six. This isn’t fair, Thea.  
  
I guess what I’m trying to say is thanks, but it’s taking a while for me to get there. It’s pretty easy to believe everyone’ll be there for me, usually— my friends are awesome, after all— but sometimes I just... I wanna deserve it, y’know?  
  
I know. I know you just told me not to think about it like deserving, but it’s hard. I’ll try to follow your example. Proud of you for being able to set that example in the first place, honestly. I’ve said this before, but Bernadetta’s been good for you.  
  
Ugh. Okay! I’m gonna engrave it in my soul, or at least smack that into my head until it rattles around: You’re right, I’m wrong, I don’t have to work to deserve love.  
  
As for the other thing… I don’t know.  
  
I’m not shitting you here, Thea, or trying to avoid your question. I genuinely, one hundred percent, do not know who Lin likes. I have some guesses? But he hasn’t confirmed anything. As for romance...You should see the way he writes about this guy. He’s obviously head over feet. Keeps going on about how kind and brave and strong he is, and how he cheers people up and wins trust as easy as anything. I’m almost sure it’s Ashe, but I’m kinda scared it might be Raph, which would suck for Lin since he’s taken, but I’m also horrible, so I kinda hope it is? Because he’s taken? So maybe there’d still be— No, that sucks. I suck. I gotta stop it with the pity party and move on.  
  
It’d just be a lot easier if I knew who it was so I could get some closure.  
  
<strike>The thing that really  
</strike>  
Okay. The thing that really has me beating myself up is that for a second, I could believe it was me. Like, I think that at my best, this could be me. But it can’t be. Lin’s never blinked at telling me anything before— if he loved me that way, he’d have said so by now.  
  
What’s worse is I keep fixating on it. Going back and forth, like maybe he might actually be talking about me. <strike>It’s like  
</strike>  
Okay, I went to go train to work off the nervous energy, and I have literally no idea where my past self was going with that last sentence, so I’m starting over. I want it to be me, but because I want it so badly, I can’t trust that it actually is me when it could just as easily be other people we know, y’know? Besides, it hurts worse when I think about how it could be me. Especially when everyone else I can think of  
  
Still not allowed to say deserve. Shit. Uh… I like the people around us and want them to be happy, and there’s no chance being with Linhardt wouldn’t make someone happy because he’s incredible. So even though it hurts, I gotta wake up and face reality. I refuse to be another bunch of expectations dragging Lin down.  
  
Ugh. I wish I could just talk to him about this in person, or whine at you in person, or shove my face in Big Guy’s fur until he smacks me. At least we’re going back to the monastery soon.  
  
For better or for worse, I’ll know soon enough.  
  
Thanks for listening to me, Thea. I don’t know if I can handle any more advice right now, but it means a lot that you’re there for me.  
  
Caspar

* * *

  
LINHARDT,  
  
EITHER GO COLLECT YOUR FOOL OF A BEST FRIEND OR USE WORDS HE CAN UNDERSTAND BEFORE I STRANGLE THE BOTH OF YOU  
  
Love,  
  
Dorothea

* * *

  
My Darling Brother and Biggest Fool in Fódlan,  
  
You kind, beautiful, magnificent fool. I may actually kill you this time. I love you with all my heart. You have the common sense of a concussed pheasant. I need to go do deep breathing exercises.  
  
I have returned and am now capable of writing things down without snapping my quill in half. Alright. Goddess give me strength.  
  
Caspar. If you listen to me when I say anything, listen to me now. Talk to Linhardt. The second you arrive at Garreg Mach, you need to talk to each other. I won’t do you or myself the disservice of acting as a mediator or translator, but I will say that seeing you sabotage yourself is killing me by inches. I know not to project my own struggles onto you, especially now, but Saints’ bones are you making it hard.  
  
We are both very, very lucky that Bern is here to keep me from writing anything I’d regret. She says hello, by the way, and thanks you for what you said earlier.  
I hope this reaches you before you get to the monastery. Or not. As long as you talk to each other. Goddess.  
  
Best Wishes,  
  
Dorothea

* * *

  
_[This draft was never finished, as it appears that the writer was interrupted halfway through its composition.]_

  
Caspar,  
  
I have attempted to write this letter far too many times. I thought that by putting pen to paper and documenting my feelings, I might be able to finally hold myself accountable. There was no chance, after all, of you misunderstanding.  
  
Somehow I always manage to underestimate you.  
  
That isn’t completely fair. In a way, I was counting on the ambiguity. One last defense against being exposed. One last barrier between me and the sun. I just didn't expect the barrier of your own thickheadedness to be quite so effective a shield.   
  
I was intending to hold off until the end of the war to hold this discussion with you, but it has become increasingly clear that doing so will benefit neither of us. Protecting myself has only served to hurt worse in the long run. In the end, it seems I will need to take a page from your book.  
  
If the information we have received is accurate, you will return home today. I will attempt to be brave. I will be brave.  
  
I hope you know that I am relying on every reserve of nerve I have available to me for this. You will need to take responsibility for every future troublesome or otherwise stressful situation on my behalf, as I shall be completely and utterly spent upon telling you this:  
  
I love you, Caspar. There is not a day that passes where I do not wish to rest in the warmth of your sunli  
  
_[There is evidence in the remainder of the letter of smudged ink, dragged across the paper as if a hand or cloth caught upon it.]_

  
-∰-

_[This addition, in large, confident strokes, takes up the remainder of the page in familiar handwriting.] _

  
LOVE YOU MORE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all ready for the shortest epilogue in the world?
> 
> I didn't make up the cat hair paper, by the way. I make handmade books as a hobby and I've met some people who've made paper out of some Weird Stuff.


	8. 1189: Epilogue

Lin,

If I’m not back from the market by the time you wake up, the bread on the table should still be warm. Unless Big Guy and The Count start licking it again. Don’t let them do that!

If I’m back when you wake up, the bread probably won’t be as fresh, but also I can fix us breakfast anyway, so win-win.

Mail on the table is from Eila and Agnes. They’re still pissed that we didn’t tell them about getting hitched ‘til now, but they at least kind of understand that it was a little hard to get invitations into the Empire at the time. 

I don’t think they’re too hung up on it, though, ‘cause they sent gifts. Check it out!

Pretty sure my career as an artist peaked at the age of six. Could’ve given Ignatz a run for his money. Ha!

Some things never change, huh?

Love you,

Caspar

P.S. I think I saw Leonie around town earlier, so I might catch up with her. She’ll definitely wanna pop in and say hi if it is her, so put on a shirt just in case 

_[The mentioned gift from Eila and Agnes is a familiar drawing of two dragon_s_, one blue and one green. The green dragon still lies sleeping on its oversized pillow, while the blue guards it, as it has for over a decade. The flower has been lost to time, but the shape of it is still evident on the paper.]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Count’s full name is actually Felix jr von Hevring. The Felix jr bit is on account of his habit of smacking everyone in the face whenever he’s picked up and then immediately purring. The von Hevring is because Linhardt made a joke once about the cat being a better choice to oversee Hevring than Linhardt, and Caspar never let it go. Thus, the first of many cat nicknames spawned.
> 
> That’s right. This fic comes with lore. 
> 
> Special thanks to Noah, who was always willing to talk out potential plot points with me, and Maddie, who dragged me into Casphardt hell, was there the moment I decided I was going to write this fic in the first place, and drew out Caspar’s attempt at his own theme song.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this fic to the end!


End file.
